Cutting it short
by katie janeway
Summary: Wilson's talking. House is bored and considering his options.


_**All characters, settings, situations, etc. from House, M.D. are not my property and are simply being borrowed for this fic.**_

House was leaning back in his chair, feet propped on the desk. His ball was in his hands, and he was trying very hard _not_ to throw it at the man in front of him. Usually, Wilson's long-windedness ended in something of import. Besides, he'd thrown the ball at Wilson to shut him up yesterday. Repeat performances were just boring.

"And then he turned to Morris, and asked him..." Wilson droned on as House considered his options.

The ball was out. But the cane was still in. He eyed it critically. It was leaning against the corner of his desk. He could reach it without any real effort. And Wilson was close enough to whack...On second thought, whacking Wilson with the cane meant pouting. Wilson pouting vaguely reminded House of a kicked puppy. And the guy would probably complain about bruises, too. As if House ever hit _that_ hard. No point in the hospital having two cripples, even if Wilson was just temping.

Although...House did like the idea of someone taking over the Gimp Club's treasurer position. House wouldn't mind the reprieve - getting dues from himself was a bitch. He never wanted to pay up.

"My mother called, by the way. Asked about you. Wanted to know..."

House briefly paid attention to that one. Wilson's mother, asking about him? Probably wondering if House had damaged her little WonderBoy, further corrupting him by opening his eyes to the harsh realities of the world. But Wilson apparently had given a Mommy-appropriate answer to whatever question his mother had, so House returned his thoughts to the task at hand.

He could mime. But mimes were dull. Always stuck in boxes or climbing staircases.

A sign? Just write it out, hold it up, let Wilson read it? Interesting, but not quite interesting enough. It lacked subtlety.

Maybe if it was in code...House grabbed a pen.

A moment later, Wilson stopped talking. He stared at the sign, then at House. "What's that supposed to be? Your latest attempt at modern art? Or is this your breakthrough on what's killing your latest patient?"

"No," House scoffed. "Isn't it obvious? It's code."

"Code for what?"

"Well, if you're not going to _try_ to figure it out, that takes the fun out of it, doesn't it?" House stood, and handed Wilson the paper. "Amuse yourself. I need some coffee."

He tried to move past Wilson, but the younger man stood in his way. "C'mon House. I was talking."

"So I heard."

"You mean you weren't listening."

"Not exactly, no. Was more interested in the slight echo effect this room has."

Wilson crossed his arms. "House..."

"Yeah?"

"I guess I'll just have to start over from the beginning."

"Oh, come now, is it really that necessary?"

"Well, I think so. You should try listening to people sometime, House. Might learn some things." And Wilson launched into the spiel again.

This wasn't going well. He had to escape, somehow. Wilson was oh-so-casually leaning against the door, blocking the exit. That gave House an idea.

"Anyhow, Jenson, the new security guard, was telling me mpfh." Wilson's lecture died as House's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Told you, I wasn't interested." House lifted his hand. Wilson glared back. A challenge.

"He was telling me that they're going to be installing- blegh! What the-?"

House had kissed him. Wilson stared at him, incredulous. "House...you...you _kissed_ me." He moved away from the door, still staring at the older man in shock. House put his hand on the doorknob, and shrugged.

"Got you to shut up. I _really_ didn't want to hear all that again."

"I still can't believe you-"

"What's the matter? I'm not your type?" House opened the door. "Get some breath mints." And then he was gone.

Wilson stood, stunned, for another moment before chuckling. "You could use a breath mint yourself, House," he muttered as he left the office. "What's next? A stopwatch?"

"You know," House said, stepping out from where he'd been leaning against the wall. "That's not such a bad idea."

"I wasn't talking _that_ long..." The pair walked off, debating, but House finally won when he threatened Wilson with another kiss if the younger man didn't shut up.

"And do me a favor," House said, as they paused by the elevator. "Get that stopwatch."

"Me? Why should I be the one buying it? You're the one who thinks I talk too long."

"Because. You'll buy one of those cool ones, with all sorts of buttons and warrantees. Fun _and_ long-lasting."

"And if you buy the stopwatch?"

"It'd probably be one of those cheap ones that'd bust within a week."

"Uh-huh." Wilson rolled his eyes and stepped onto the elevator.

"Don't forget about the stopwatch," House called as the doors closed. "I _really _don't want to repeat that again."


End file.
